


Agony

by Mooncursed



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/F, POV Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Psychological Trauma, just sad, mercymaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 00:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooncursed/pseuds/Mooncursed
Summary: Widowmaker’s past life was insignificant. Talon erased her memory and reprogrammed her as the perfect killer.  They should never have given her a bit of freedom.





	Agony

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, Mercymaker is my OTP and I finally decided to write them. I am French and it’s my first fic so I apologize for any possible mistakes. Don’t hesitate to leave a comment.  
> Just to make it less confusing, thoughts are in italics and flashbacks are in bold.  
> It wasn't supposed to be so angsty but I hope you'll like it.

_Bang._

The target died on the spot.

It would have been sooner if the annoying girl hadn’t showed up but Widowmaker was satisfied with herself. Aside from completing her job, she made quite a show by shooting a bullet right into Mondatta’s head.

The sniper could not suppress a smirk coming to her lips when the young Overwatch agent pinned her against the floor, she didn’t really hear her voice either.

 All she cared about was getting back to the ship and admiring the aftermath of one of her finest kills. 

* * *

 The unexpected reward for the elimination of the omnic provoked a sudden hint of anxiety through the assassin’s body, though she would rather die than admit she displayed the ghost of an emotion.

Apparently, this contract was the final test of project: Widowmaker, her biochemical modications were stabilized, her loyalty exemplary. Therefore, Doctor O’Deorain told her she didn’t have to live in Talon Headquarters anymore.

“We will only require you to complete assassinations from time to time.”

It seemed unreal. She was the perfect agent, Talon was her whole life, she would never betray them. But still, they would let her live on her own so quickly?

 Widowmaker had lost track of time since she had been in Talon. Actually, she could not even remember when she even began to be in the organization.

It was strange, _probably Sombra’s doing,_ she thought.

But the most inconvenient was the fact that Talon was indeed her whole life, and now she did not know what to do with herself. 

* * *

 Thankfully, the spider had another living place apart from Talon. She could not remember how she inherited her château in Annecy but it was deserted when she arrived. All that remained of her family was the Guillard coat of arms, hung above the fireplace.

Thus, Widowmaker settled in her spacious home with its stone walls, as cold as her skin.

Now that she was stabilized, doctors didn’t have to keep an eye on her enhancements anymore. Yet, Moira regularly sent her filled syringes to do her injections herself in order to maintain her unique physiology.

Although Widowmaker became accustomed to this routine, she was bored. The agent was created to kill, how was she supposed to live a normal life between two contracts ?

She could not go outside due to the slightly recognizable tint of her skin and eyes, not that the thought seemed really appealing anyway. So she tried to read or to use her computer but everything was dull, useless, nothing could grant her satisfaction as a well-executed kill could.

* * *

 Three months later, the hacker visited her.

She was difficult at first but Widowmaker could say she considered Sombra her only friend, and it was quite the privilege. They were spending the night in the cellar, sitting on leather armchairs while savoring a bottle from the early 2000’s.

“If I’d known your snobbish family would leave you an entire wine cellar, I would have befriended you sooner  _araña._ ” Sombra said, giggling while pouring herself a second glass.

All she received was a snort, but when it came to Widowmaker, she had learned that the mere fact of being listened to was to be cherished.

“There is definitely enough to make up for lost time.” the assassin’s expression suddenly changed and she scanned the cellar pensively, “ _Que ferais-je de tout ce vin?_ I’m not even sure how much I can drink with my injections.”

“Your injections? Are you still taking those?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I am no doctor but…” she was lost in thought for several seconds before continuing, “I’d like to perform a little experiment”

“Sombra…” She growled, becoming more and more impatient.

“I suppose you know what you inject in your body uh?”

Widowmaker frowned, she hadn’t really thought about it. Plus, there had been absolutely no problem with her aim or physical shape for the past months _._

“It must be chemicals to keep me one hundred percent operational.”

Sombra looked at her with a questioning look before asking “Operational? How so?”

The reason why the hacker was suddenly interested in the content of her medication was a mystery to the assassin, but she complied. Sombra asking questions meant one thing, she was scheming. She would execute her plan no matter what, Widowmaker may as well give her information to limit the damage.

“Always in top shape, permanent composure, never missing a sho-“

“Yeah, but have you ever consider the fact that these chemicals could alter _you_? Psychologically?” Sombra’s behavior was definitely more peculiar than usual.

She continued before her friend could answer, “No, of course you haven’t. They made sure you wouldn’t think for yourself.”

“Are you insulting my intelligence Sombra?” Widowmaker asked with a threatening tone.

“It wasn’t my intention _hermosa,_ I am just saying that this medication enhances you as much as it inhibits you. If I were you I would try to let’s say, “forget” to take my dose from time to time.” With that, Sombra’s lips twisted in her signature smirk, only emphasizing the already surreal atmosphere.

“What will it do?”

“That will be for you to find out, my favorite spider.”

* * *

 A week had passed since her conversation with the hacker.

She inserted the needle into a blue vein, hardly distinguishable on her cyanotic skin.

The second week, Widowmaker hesitated. _It could be a distraction_.  

The thought was quickly dismissed though, Sombra’s conspiracy theory about Talon altering her personality was nonsense. The assassin knew she had a life before Talon. Well, theoretically, she must have had one. Yet, the absence of memory told her everything she needed to know: Talon changed her meaningless life, there were no psychological manipulation, they just offered her a purpose.

The third week, boredom got the better of her.

Not only did she started to reflect upon Sombra’s words, but she also convinced herself that she had nothing to lose.

It was not a big deal if her body could not subsist without the injections. Her life was dedicated to serving Talon, but time between contracts became insufferably long.

What was the point of living if nothing could grant her the satisfaction she received when befriending Death?

* * *

 Widowmaker did not expect the first changes to appear three days later.

It was minor, yet disturbing, she understood the purpose of the injections.

Firstly, the depressing grey walls surrounding her in every room began to irritate her, the change of scenery was critical. The exasperation was unfamiliar, and the mere fact of _feeling_ angered her. Having an unwanted emotion was already unpleasant, what did it have to be followed by another one?

Despite feeling eerie and not her normal self, Widowmaker was intrigued by these new sentiments. Especially when she discovered that some of them could be agreeable, as relishing to the sound of a melancholic sonata coming from the holopad, the music reviving images she was not able pinpoint yet. Or enjoying the comforting scent of old books stacked in the bookcase.

Then, one night a sudden memory woke her.

Widowmaker’s head was on fire, crude images flashing and mixing in her mind. The time and setting obviously differed but it was as though she could see them simultaneously **.**

**A knife was slowly opening a woman’s throat.**

**Flash**

**A pillow was being pressed on a young man’s head.**

**Then, the knife from earlier was stabbing the woman’s husband.**

Why did it feel so bad? She never asked for any of the accompanying feelings. The remembrance of murdering her parents and Gérard should have evoked ignorance, at best satisfaction of a well-executed kill.

But right now, the assassin’s trembling body could not stand the memory of her mother bleeding to death. A single tear fell on the mattress, suddenly freezing her. Was she crying? _Could_ she even cry?

The need to bang her head against the walls was dire, images wouldn’t stop coming at her, blaming and punishing her. There was no way to forget those horrific acts, they would stay with her now.

 As this overload of emotions submerged her, Widowmaker realized that she was watching the scene rather than living it.  Strangely, her soul hovered over her, observing its vessel struggling while her psyche was gradually emptying itself.

She remained like this for several long minutes before falling asleep, detached, lost and exhausted.

* * *

 One could have expected Talon’s best operative to go back to taking her injections after such an unpleasant experience.

But unwavering determination was one of her distinguishing features. She was resolute to explore more of these reemerging memories and feelings.

Retrieving her old life was a hopeless dream, more so that her physical modifications were too extensive and still present. Widowmaker was a killer, consumed with guilt maybe, but a killer nonetheless.

However, she was intrigued. So, she skipped her medication for the third time, then the fourth.

She just had to act normal when Moira called to check on her. Recently, the mere thought of the geneticist would elicit profound loathing from the assassin.

“How could she do this to me? What gave her the right to suppress my emotions, to erase my whole life?” she would often ask out loud.

Though, if the woman had to be honest with herself, her desire to test new feelings and to explore possibilities reminded her of the doctor’s dedication towards her experiments. Even if it seemed less nerve-racking for the latter.

Indeed, a discovery would usually be synonym of breakdown for Widowmaker.

Looking for answers, she searched the château one evening, and came upon an album containing photographs of a little girl in a tutu. She appeared older in each photograph, sometimes dancing, sometimes holding trophies. Elegance epitomized by pale skin, raven hair in a tight bun and piercing green eyes.

The realization was immediate, tears stained the pages of the album. She was a ghost staring at her stolen life and everything suddenly fell into place when she read a name on a trophy:

Amélie Lacroix.

* * *

 A shuttle took off in the evening. Its occupants were gathered around a board and arguing over diverging strategies.

Indifferent to their quarrel, she was leaning against a wall, her visor already on her head. They were there to ambush Overwatch once more anyway.

She had changed, but of course they didn’t know, except for Sombra probably, she needed to follow instructions to avoid suspicion. Especially when the order concerned one target in particular instead of only defending her teammates.

“Locate agent Mercy and execute her.” Ogundimu’s order repeated tirelessly in her head.

 _Mercy_.

So, the sniper had to look for a blonde medic dressed as an angel _._

 _Un ange, pfff,_ she thought _._

If she hadn’t been told that Mercy was a 37-year-old surgeon and one of the first agents of Overwatch, Widowmaker would have searched for a silly young girl.

The mission would be easy, she didn’t forget how to land a bullet in someone’s head after all. Indeed, she was only expected to perform the kill before returning to a personal shuttle.

As soon as the ship landed, Widowmaker considered following Reaper and Sombra but changed her mind and took out her grappling hook. The rooftops would be the fastest way to locate the target without being detected, Rialto was an advantage for her.

Soon, gunshots rang throughout the sleeping city, the fight had begun.

Through her visor she saw the enemies scattered. Their little healer was there, flying in every direction to tend to wounded teammates. Still unmoving, Widowmaker observed her trying to heal the annoying girl she had the pleasure to meet in King’s Row before the latter disappeared in a flash.

Mercy was left alone, this was the sniper’s chance.

She immediately called for her personal shuttle, this should be quick. Widowmaker silently dropped down from her spot and followed the medic who just passed through the arch of a building.

 _Locate agent Mercy and execute her_ / She was one step from completing her mission, she would be back to her château in a heartbeat, resuming her psychological expedition. One more kill wouldn’t aggravate her conscience anyway.

 

The large room’s only source of light came from a nearby streetlamp. If not for her enhanced vision, Widowmaker would certainly not have noticed the target huddled in a corner. 

 _Locate agent Mercy and execute her_. She raised her rifle, one bullet would suffice.

“A-Amélie?”

She froze. _What? That voice…_

Widowmaker deactivated her visor and as if the past weeks haven’t already been distressing enough her world suddenly collapsed around her.

Everything about this woman felt oddly familiar, from her big blue eyes to her soft pink lips. The assassin was petrified. She could alternatively remember the medic’s lovely accent, her intoxicating smell, thensweet texture of her hair. What was she incapable of shooting her?

“M-My Amélie?” Her voice was a strange mixture of nervousness and joy, “I thought I lost you.”

At that moment, it clicked, she remembered her. Her beautiful and caring doctor, the one for whom she fell so passionately and who made her happy in ways Gérard could never have.

 _Angela._ _How could I forget my angel’s name?_

A tear slid down the blonde’s rosy cheek, it was too much, old feelings were reappearing, everything was submerging her.

 _Locate agent Mercy and execute her_. It was impossible, she could not murder the woman she loved. The painful reaction following remembrance was returning.

Panic overtook her body, she couldn’t do it, for the first time in her life she needed to flee. With one last look to Angela’s mournful eyes, Widowmaker ran and attached her grappling hook to the shuttle’s roof.

The ship disappeared a minute later, separating the two lovers, leaving them both nostalgic and profoundly distressed.

* * *

 As soon as she arrived at Château Guillard, she ran up the stairs and collapsed on her bed, tears streaming down her face and failure heavy on her heart.

At the moment, Widowmaker’s anger towards Talon culminated. In addition to performing the most unethical experiments, they made her forget about Angela Ziegler. How could they ? Instantly the thought triggered something in the sniper’s mind and brought her back in time.

 

**She entered a large and organized office and contemplated its owner working, with her back to the newcomer. The sight was captivating. Clad in her immaculate lab coat, the doctor was sat at her desk while writing frantically. She often hurried to write down a sudden idea for fear of forgetting it.**

**When watching didn’t suffice anymore, Amélie Lacroix approached her silently and slid her arms around her, generating a gasp from the blonde.**

**“Ugh Amélie! You’re not a cat, what do you have to pounce on me?” She sounded exasperated but the raven-haired woman knew better and chuckled.**

**“Are you saying you’re not glad to see me then, _docteur_?”**

**Angela’s face immediately softened, she bored her eyes into jade ones and replied, “Of course I’m glad to see you”**

**Satisfied with her answer, Amélie buried her nose in her lover’s loose hair and inhaled contently before kissing her cheek.**

**“Amélie the door is open, someone could see us!” She turned her head towards the door, her expression anxious.**

**“ _Et alors?_ Let them Angie, I don’t care.” In that instant, Amélie’s deepest desire was to profess her love to the doctor. **

**She knew her feelings were reciprocated, of course they were, with the way Angela’s personality went from morose to ecstatic the moment they started their affair. It was so obvious, everyone in Overwatch must have noticed it. Yet, Amélie couldn’t bring herself to tell her now, she would do it properly after the show.**

**“I came here to invite you personally to my show tomorrow night.” As usual, the French woman spoke in a dramatic manner.**

**“Shouldn’t you ask Gérard first?”**

**She was smart, she knew Amélie hadn’t informed her husband before coming to her lab.**

**“Gérard is blind to art, he only sees beauty in guns and military gear.”**

**“Don’t say that, he loves you.” Her voice saddened a bit at the end.**

**“Hum, probably. Anyway, I want you to come, not him. So, is it settled?”**

**“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Liebling.” The doctor replied with a warm smile before kissing her lover’s red lips.**

**The next evening, Amélie Lacroix never showed on stage.**

 

Widowmaker was blaming herself for not confessing to Angela sooner, one more day would have sufficed. She could not recall exactly what Talon did to her during the two weeks of her kidnapping, but she remembered how execrable she was to Angela when she returned, she certainly wouldn’t have told her back then.

Now, it was clear that she would never have been able to shoot her angel.

Gérard was a kind man but Angela gave her the happiest moments of her life.

In fact, his love had always been unrequited since their marriage was based on a punishment. Her homophobic parents had forced her to marry one of their friend’s son when she told them she liked girls. “We will not allow you to tarnish our family’s name with your filthy inclination” they told her before severing all contact.

She never loved Gérard but he didn’t deserve to be murdered in cold blood. Widowmaker was certain that she would never forgive herself for this.

Now there was no more time to waste, she already lost six years. Talon agents would soon hunt her down and investigate the reason why she refused to complete the contract.

 Only Angela could help her to undue what remained of her modifications and teach her how to live at peace. But above all, she longed to be reunited with her love and to make up for lost time.

* * *

 She flew the day after, without a single syringe. Thanks to Sombra, a shuttle was sent to take her to her destination.

The sun was starting to set when she landed in Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Given the size of the building, Widowmaker chose to study it beforehand to find what she was looking for. There were still people coming in and out but she managed to make a tour of the Watchpoint undetected.

Eventually, she sat on a high rock and waited for the building to empty itself, her yellow eyes glued to the blonde ponytail she could see through a nearby window.

Thirty minutes later, the agitation had calmed down, it was time for her to enter the infirmary and reunite with Angela. Amélie began to walk towards the window but stopped dead in her tracks.

The door of the infirmary abruptly opened, revealing a wounded soldier, a tanned-skinned woman in a massive armor who appeared to have been shot in the ribs.

_Amari. Non, sa fille, Fareeha._

Angela seemed very professional, helping her patient to lie on a table and immediately picking the appropriate medicine to heal her. She started to clean Fareeha’s wound and proceeded to remove the bullet.

The Egyptian was in obvious pain, though Amélie soon noticed something strange. She began to stare at the doctor with passion, her red cheeks visible from the sniper’s position.

_Why is she looking at her like that?_

A frown crossed Amélie’s face as the scene unfolded before her, unable to grasp what was happening.

All of a sudden, she felt her already withering heart stop when Fareeha turned her angel’s head to her and slowly kissed her lips.

Amélie was incapable of moving, trying to repress her tears as she watched Angela return the kiss.

But a single tear escaped her control. She averted her eyes, telling herself that she didn’t mean much to Angela, and that she hadn’t waited for her.

In a second, the assassin regained her composure, held her head high and tried to convince herself that she was indifferent to losing Angela forever.

After all, no emotion could reach the cold-blooded killer Widowmaker.

And she walked away, unaware that behind her back, Angela was gently rejecting Fareeha before mentioning a certain Amélie.

 

 


End file.
